


Twisted Cogs

by Flames_of_Madness



Series: Gears and Pistons [2]
Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Adopted but not adopted children, Family, Father Figure, Gen, Gotta Love Children, Please Don't Hate Me, Ratchet parent, Sorry Not Sorry, Team Prime - Freeform, Trust, Watch it Burn, lol, ratchet is a big softie, watch their world crumble
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:14:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_of_Madness/pseuds/Flames_of_Madness
Summary: Two years after the Battle of Mission City, Toby Hills has finally found her place in the world. The twenty-one year old woman spends her time studying under the guidance of the Autobot Chief Medical Officer and redesigning old inventions for the purpose of aiding the Autobots.But when a shard of the Allspark falls through the kitchen ceiling, destiny's path is ultimately decided and the young woman finds herself thrown back in the mix. Then Sam announces that he's leaving for college, and Toby finds herself unable to forgive him, doing all she can to make it clear how much she hates him for it. Aside from that, life seems perfect. However, even with a new light in her life, the universe proves just how much it enjoys taking everything away from her. With her leader gone and left to rust, she struggles to live any further, only her little light keeping her from allowing herself to fade to darknessWith Earth's days counting down, she must forge new alliances and put the worst of her past behind her. But with a child's life in her hands, she forgets that the humans have lives too, and fails to understand that fate's hand is forever ticking closer to its destination.
Relationships: Ironhide (Transformers) & Original Character(s), Mikaela Banes/Sam Witwicky, Ratchet (Transformers) & Original Character(s), Ratchet (Transformers) & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Gears and Pistons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661311
Kudos: 17





	1. Prologue

_"There is only darkness where there is no light."_

★☆★☆★☆★☆★  
  
  
  


Glittering stars of white and blue dot the inky black expanse of the night sky, flashing dully in tranquility. Dark sea waves crash on the glowing sand of the beach, the lapping water a soothing melody for those seeking comfort in this night. A gentle breeze, full of salt and cleansed air, plays with the whistling growths of grass and flowers, their scent mingling to withhold memories long forgotten by the races upon the earth.

A young woman, one who has met with the creatures of darkness and walked away with nothing more than flesh wounds, approaches the tip of the land, where the heavens meet the water and the water greets the heavens. A strand of silver catches the starlight, flashing in an acceptance of presence as it sways in the air. Her features are pale and slim, though she wears no mask on this night, this moment a time of truth, one that she is rarely granted.

A quiet sigh leaves her soft lips, and a shuffle occurs as she removes her jacket bound in darkness, sitting upon it to relieve herself of the minuscule grains of stone. Her eyes look to the skies, the sharp colouration of her blue eyes snagging the attention of several stars, displaying their interest with a streak of light, a shooting star in her terms.

"Hey, you guys," the stars perk up, growing further intrigued by the woman playing with her fingers. "It's been a while, huh?"

The air hums with minute energy as the earth and the heavens agree together.

She chuckles quietly to herself, feeling completely at ease for the first time in weeks. "A lot's happened since last time, I guess. Life is very different for me now that I qualify as a medic. The twins are in every day, sometimes twice a day, and they never fail to irritate me. My duties are quite different than before, and I no longer run around ferrying messages. The only downside I can see is getting shouted at by the newbies who think that they're higher than me. I tend to fix that pretty quick."

She laughs again, but pauses, her moment of calm interrupted by colliding emotions. The stars flicker in curiosity, silently edging her on as she hesitates.

"I miss you guys," the flickering slows, the heavens expressing their apologies and sympathy. "I miss you so much. Even though life still goes on and I've found a family that cares, I just can't seem to move on."

Crickets slowly stop their chirping, allowing the woman to grieve on graves long since lost. Two stars remain bright, providing what little comfort they can give to her as she swallows her pain, locking it away and melting the key.

Complete silence ensues, even the sea halts it's tireless motions in respect for the young one.

Then, startling both the heavens and the earth, she stands, dragging the putrid leather jacket with her. A forced cough hacks her throat dry of moisture, ridding her of the words she wishes to speak.

Seconds pass as she rethinks her approach before she shakes her head in pathetic dismissal. The stars dim sadly, watching as she turns to leave the place of peace, sand brushing against the rough material of her dampening outer clothing in protest.

But mid-step, the woman pauses once more, an almost unnoticeable smile quirking her lips. She glances at the skies one last time, eyes glistening in the otherworldly light.

"Thanks for listening, you two. Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Jazz," and like the clouds on a windy day, she moves on, walking away from the dazzling stars that gleam in the forever consuming vacuum of nothingness.   
  
  


★☆★☆★☆★☆★


	2. | | I Just Wanted Coffee | |

_"Our fears don't hide in the dark, the darkness hides them from sight to keep us from being scared."_

★☆★☆★☆★☆★  
  
  
  


"Come on, let's go. All hands on deck," Ron pushes his son out of the house, shooing the dogs in the dining room. "Frankie, Mojo, out. Come on, kiddo, we're on a schedule here."

"Slow down, dad," Sam complains, carrying a bag of stuff outside. "Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of me, huh? Did you rent the room out?"

"No, he's got other ideas for your room and it rhymes with home theater," a young woman by the name of Toby Hills pops her head through the back door, a cheeky smile on her face.

In the two years since the Battle of Mission City, she has trained ruthlessly to work alongside her guardian and now takes her place as secondary Autobot medic. She still works as an inventor, her creations now gifted to her Cybertronian family to aid in the bringing down of enemy Decepticons. But she refuses to reveal the blueprints and schematics to the human side of NEST, knowing that it would be unwise to give humanity such power.

Her unique features, namely two bionic appendages, cause small difficulties in the way of leaving base, due to the inability to hide the metal armor without lengthy clothing. As a result, the woman only leaves base to visit NEST soldiers and people who know of her condition, such as the Witwickys.

"Exactly," Ron nods in agreement to her statement, shuffling past his son towards the car.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping?" Sam stops, questioning the weirdly energetic woman.

"Why do you think all your boxes are packed? I finished your room for you," she scoffs, used to staying up all night. She plays with the hem of her black NEST tee, adjusting the neck of the specially designed black leather jacket covering it. "Judy?"

"Yeah?" The elder woman sniffs sadly.

"Can I use your coffee machine?" Toby leans backwards in the doorway, gripping either side with her hands for much needed balance.

"Of course!"

"Thanks!" She pips cheerfully, sliding across the wood floor on her socked foot. With a small skip, she disappears into the kitchen, leather jacket trailing behind.

"Look what I found," Judy says, choking on her words. "It's your little baby booties."

"Oh, ma," Sam's voice becomes muffled, causing the young woman to assume that his mother has taken him captive in a hug.

"Oh, my little baby booty boy, you can't go," she whimpers, voice cracking from withheld sobs.

"You see this?" Toby pauses momentarily to listen, bum in the air as she reaches into the depths of the cabinet. "This is how you're supposed to react when the fruit of your loins goes out into the cruel world to fend for himself, okay?"

"Yeah, my heart bleeds for you, pal. College, bummer," Ron appears in her peripheral, waving dismissively before taping up a box on the dining table.

Toby chuckles to herself, the rest of the conversation becoming background noise as she digs through the cabinets for coffee grounds. She has the unfortunate luck to look up at the family just as Ron smacks his wife's butt, and she sticks her head deeper into the cupboard to avoid seeing or hearing any more.

"Look, you're the hero, uh, your mother and me are really proud of you," the young woman smiles at the interaction, hearing Sam's dad get all choked up about him leaving making her miss her biological family. "You're the first Witwicky ever to go to college."

"Now I'm crying again. This sucks!"

"Geez, at least allow Judy to recover from the first round, would you?!" The inventor jokes loudly, slightly startling the family as she laughs.

"Now this is going to be, uh, you know, hard for her to...accept that her little boy's all grown up, you know. Going out to handle the world on his own," Toby almost 'aww's at Ron's feeble attempt to not cry before retrieving the coffee machine from its hiding place.

"You okay, pop?" Sam teases gently, checking on his father's mental state.

"Yeah."

The ex-mechanic stands, cracking her back as she stretches, only to freeze mid-reach. "Hey! Mojo! None of that! Go on, scat!" She grabs a nearby dishcloth and swats it at the two beast-like dogs, scaring them off the couch.

"You see a lot of that in college too," Toby snorts loudly at the man's words, knowing that somehow he'll turn it into a lesson.

"What are you talking about, dad?" Sam cocks his head, picking up a cardboard box on the dining table.

"There's gonna be a lot of women there," the young woman watches the interaction with amusement, smirking as the boy groans.

"Yeah, well, I'm a one-woman kind of guy," Sam insists, trying to escape his dad by going outside, only to have him follow behind.

"Look, Mikaela is the greatest, but you gotta give each other room to grow, okay? You're no different from any other couple your age," Ron explains, making the woman frown at his attempt to tell his son to date other women.

"'Till we discovered an alien race together," the boy places his box in the trunk of the car, turning to his dad in annoyance.

"How long are you going to be riding that scooter?"

"As long as he has to, Ron. I'm still riding it, and look at where I am," Toby smirks, pridefully gesturing to herself from the doorway.

"Yeah, stuck mooching off our coffee supply," she gasps in mock horror, clutching her chest dramatically while putting down the tub of coffee grounds.

"I may only be here because Ratchet insisted that I 'socialize' and get out of the base for a bit, but I could have chosen to go to anyone's house. And yet, I came here," she pouts, playfully glaring at the elder man.

"Yeah, yeah."

"Dad, listen, I know what the odds are. We're the exception, okay? Wait a minute. Oh, who could that be?" Sam grins, holding his ringing phone up in his father's face before actually answering. "Hey, beautiful," he frowns slightly before smirking. "Really? You sure? I hear a lot of conviction," an amused laugh leaves his lips as he renters the house. "Wow, you almost sounded serious that time. Guess what? I made you a long-distance relationship kit. Yeah, I got you a webcam so we can chat twenty-four seven. All Witwicky all the time."

Toby pokes her head over his shoulder in curiosity. "Is that Mikaela?" Already knowing the answer, she practically screams in the boy's ear. "Hi, Mikaela!"

He cringes, reeling back with a resigned sigh. "Yeah, it's Toby."

Sam reluctantly hands her his phone, and she immediately places it at her ear, smiling at her friend's voice. "Hi, Gears. How's the job working out?"

She chuckles, sticking the container of filter paper on the counter beside the coffee grounds. "Just because my jacket says 'Gears' on the back, it doesn't mean you get to call me that."

"You were given that jacket because that's your nickname. It literally has your name on it," the mechanic says in amusement.

It's true. The name given to her two years prior stuck to her like glue, officially becoming her alias when she built a model of a motorbike made completely out of gears. She received the jacket from Will Evans for her birthday only two months ago, the man having etched the silhouette of a gear and the word 'Gears' underneath it on the back of the leather. It is her most prized possession.

"True," she shrugs nonchalantly, forgetting that the woman can't see her. "Anyways, I want to smash their helms together most days, but my job's great! How's your dad doin'?"

"Good, I'm just trying to get him back on his feet," the inventor nods absently, humming in acknowledgment.

"Hey, can I have my girlfriend back now?" Sam whines to her, pouting at the sudden lack of attention.

"Hold on, your boyfriend's demanding that I give the phone back," Toby hears a light laugh from the other end of the phone. "I'll give you a ring sometime when I get back, alright?"

"Yeah, bye," the smile can be heard in the younger woman's voice as she accepts the promise.

"Bye then," Toby tosses the flip phone to the boy beside her, the sudden act making him fumble for the device. "Here's your phone, Sammy boy."

"Don't call me that," Sam frowns, putting the phone to his ear and retreating up the stairs.

"You sound like Ratchet," she mocks, quickly returning to her previous task. "Ron! You want coffee?"

"No!" His voice calls from outside, the man in the process of packing his car.

"Okay!"

The ex-mechanic hums to herself, the tune recognizable as a Metallica guitar solo, pulling out the rest of her required items for the caffeine infused drink. To a stranger, or someone who doesn't know the woman well, they would think her choices of additives are unusual for a caffeine-crazed, black coffee drinker. Though she likes her coffee strong, she'd rather eat her own sock before drinking it without milk or sugar.

The minutes tick by as she brews herself a pot of coffee, boredly digging through the mugs in the cupboard for an interesting one. Finally picking a bright blue mug, she spins round and places it on the granite counter, pouring two teaspoons' worth of sugar in the china cup.

The coffee pot clicks, signalling the completion of her mind-numbing, hyperactivity causing beverage. With a small smile, she removes the glass pot from its stand and turns to pour her drink.

A startling loud 'clink' catches her attention, and the sight of some sort of shard bouncing off the kitchen island intrigues her beyond belief.

"What the—?" Toby mutters, seeing the shard on the floor.

With the coffee pot still in her hand, she crouches down and picks it up with her free servo, only to be zapped. The rush that goes through her body is not unlike the one when she touched the Allspark, if only less painful.

"Ouch!" The shard flies from her digits, sparking with energy. "Flipping ow!"

The woman shakes her servo, dropping the coffee pot on the kitchen counter as she stumbles backwards, flailing her arm to catch herself. As she stumbles, her hand brushes the coffee machine, sending trembling energy into it. She stares at her digits in amazement and shock.

"How does that work then?"

A whirring and clicking startles the inventor from her confusion, making her quickly glance at the coffee machine on the counter in surprise. The black metal pieces shift and move unnaturally, tiny gears that never existed now spinning to accommodate for its growing size. Small arms slot out of the armor, shortly followed by a pair of stubby stabilizers.

About the size of a toddler, the once-coffee-machine-now-bot wears mainly black armor, due to the colour of the coffee machine prior to the incident, though it appears almost unnaturally flimsy and soft. Their helm reminds Toby quite painfully of Jazz, tiny wings placed just above both audio receptors that seem to move with each emotion. Silver metal covers their chassis, several black plates here and there, but it mostly consists of exposed protoforn.

Two blue optics blink curiously at the young inventor, and a tiny servo tiredly rubs them before being sucked on by the apparent youngster. They wriggle impatiently on the counter, sitting with writhing energy as they whine uncomfortably.

"Umm. Hi?" She greets in confusion. "Who are you?"

The youngster whimpers, bouncing for attention. They click needingly, reaching with grabbing servos for the woman.

"You want me? Okay," unsure, Toby picks them up, holding the child how she once did with her cousins.

They squeal in joy, gripping her leather jacket in excitement. The woman remains uncomfortable and cautious, though she is gentle and calm as she holds them close.

A small servo grabs the strand of silver in her hair, tugging gently before pulling it towards the tiny intake. The inventor sighs in resign, quietly chuckling at the innocent optics that watch her every move.

"I don't know how you came to be, but I won't allow any harm to come to you," she smiles warmly at the youngster as they gurgle cutely.

The whirring of an alien gun has Toby whipping round, coming face to faceplates with several pairs of crimson red optics and a small armada's worth of weapons. In an instant, she takes up a protective position around the blue optic-ed youngster in her arms, eyes wide with surprise and confusion.

"What on Earth," she mumbles, assessing the situation as the turned kitchen appliances scan her for her relevance in the Fallen's great plan. "I'm pretty sure the whole kitchen's not meant to be alive."

Several of the small 'cons click in rapid discussion, none of them turning away from the pair. Having come to recognise a few Cybertronian phrases from the Autobots, the woman only catches two words, 'Primus' and 'chosen'. Unable to linger on the thought as the conversation takes a turn for the worst and a minuscule missile flies towards her, she drops to the ground, cushioning the youngster at her chest the best she can.

"Scrap! Sam!" Some of the 'cons appear to take an interest in melee attacks, forcing the woman to pull open a nearby cabinet and grab the closest thing to a weapon she can reach. "Sam! Oh, screw that. Bumblebee!"

She hears the younger man upstairs scream and small explosions following, leading her to believe that he already has his own squadron. Toby rolls her eyes, ducking down quickly to avoid another projectile, and swings the item in her servo with as much force as she can muster. Three 'cons bounce off the frying pan, flying backwards into their comrades, effectively bringing them down like dominos.

The commotion outside grows steadily louder, though the young inventor fights her own battle, battering the small army attacking her with the pan, all the while shielding the youngster from harm.

When a shot from outside hits one of the 'cons, namely one that was once a blender, Toby rolls beneath the table, curling around the sparkling and shielding them from the raining wood and stray blasts.

They whimper fearfully, hiccuping before bursting into tears, coolant rolling down their cheek plates and onto the woman's shirt. Their servos tightly fist the black fabric, hiding their helm from the violent sights.

Unfamiliar with children and in a position unable to do much, the inventor gently hushes them, rubbing their back struts in the most soothing manner she can manage. The crying doesn't ease, but their body does.

A deafening explosion rocks the house, drawing a terrified scream from the sparkling as Toby holds them tighter. She hushes them again, kissing their helm in comfort while splinters of wood rain down from the ceiling.

One last shot is fired before a tense silence follows, quickly interrupted by the panicking shouts of the Witwicky family.

"Bumblebee! Get back in the garage!"

Toby breathes in relief, slowly uncurling herself from around the bawling sparkling. "Hey, hey. Shhh. You're alright, you're alright." She whispers, wiping away the coolant on their cheek plates with a motherly smile.

Sirens start to whine, scaring the sparkling and freaking out the young woman.

"Oh, Primus. It's alright little one, everything's alright now," she mumbles, stroking their helm softly in comfort. "No-one's going to hurt you. Primus have mercy on them if they do."

Her words seem to soothe the youngster, coolant no longer rolling down their cheek plates, and they chirp in want, snuggling into Toby. She smiles at them, pressing a kiss onto the top of their helm.

The once small commotion of chatter and sirens grows louder than the young inventor feels comfortable with, leading her to wrap her jacket around their tiny body, and tug her sleeve over her metal arm. With a cough, she removes herself from the protection of the kitchen table and slips behind several people going through the house, sneaking out of the back door.

Moving quickly, Toby avoids the firemen now crowding the ruins of what was once the Witwicky household and ducks beneath the tarp hiding the interior of the garage. She briefly checks that no-one followed her before facing the Autobot scout with a smile.

"Hey, 'Bee," her jacket shifts, causing Bumblebee to narrow his optics at the lump. She laughs lightly, moving the material to reveal the shocked sparkling, their optics wide in curiosity and wonder at the bizarre items in the building.

"~Is that a~spark~ling?" He warbles in amazement, having not seen a Cybertronian youngling since before the war.

"Yeah, a mech, I think," she bounces him into a better position, earning a happy giggle from the sparkling.

"~He's~imprinted on~you," 'Bee whirs fondly, and would be smiling if he could.

"Nah, he just thinks I'm his carrier," Toby nuzzles the youngster's cheek plates in a playful manner. "Don't you?"

"Bah!" He exclaims jolivally, placing his tiny servos on her cheeks, smiling cutely at his new-found foster mother.

"He's adorable," she squeals, her voice an octave higher than usual as she sits him on her hip.

"~Spark~lings~are irresistible," Bumblebee explains, cooing gently at the sparkling as he allows him to play with his digit.

"When you go, he goes. I cannot live with this psychotic alien in my garage!" Judy's voice bursts into the garage, jarring the Autobots from the sweet moment.

"Oh no. Here comes trouble," the young woman sighs, turning away from the scout as he remembers the disaster he caused to the house.

'Bee hits himself in the helm repeatedly, whining in shame and guilt, earning a protesting chirp from the sparkling in the medic's hands. He ignores his new family member, continuously punishing himself for his muck up, the awful sound of clashing metal making the inventor return her attention to him.

"No, no! Don't do that, 'Bee!" Toby scolds, pulling his servo away with the help of her little passenger.

He whirs upsetly, his big optics blinking sadly at her. She sighs, stroking his cheek plate with sympathy before being interrupted by Sam storming in.

"Yeah, you know you're in trouble."

"He's still having voice problems?" Mikaela asks no-one in particular but gets a confirming nod from the inventor.

"Unfortunately," she walks over to them. "We think it'll be a few years before his voice box will produce more than empty static."

"No, he's playing it up," Sam dismisses her, hardly sparing a glance in her direction.

She shoots him a harsh glare, ignoring the sharp pain that tugs her heart. With an unhappy huff, she bounces the attention seeking youngster in her arms, gaining an adorable twitter from him.

Both humans spin around to look at her, Mikaela 'awing' at the sight while Sam nearly loses it. He grabs his girlfriend's arm and yanks her behind him, eyes wide in fear but fists tight in anger.

"What are you doing with that thing?!" He hisses, rapidly shuffling away from Toby.

The young woman raises a brow, sharing a look with 'Bee. "Holding him?"

"That thing tried to kill me!" He jabs a finger at the startled sparkling, spooking him into his 'mother's jacket.

"That 'thing' is a child," she presses sharply, hoisting him up to hide under her chin. "And I was protecting him from those 'cons. He never left my side."

Sam turns to Bumblebee, expecting him to turn against the woman, only to get a nod of agreement from the Autobot.

He laughs humorlessly, suffering defeat as he runs his hands through his hair. His girlfriend looks at him like he's insane, stepping out from behind him and standing beside Toby in full faith.

"Sam, you're scaring him," she says, rubbing his small helm in comfort.

"I'm scaring him?!" The young man snarls, making both women step back slightly.

"Samuel Witwicky, you are being irrational," Toby states stiffly, "breathe slowly and calm down."

Deciding that he's had enough, he humors the woman, breathing deeply and slowly until he feels his emotions settle. A few moments later, he eases, running a hand down his face.

"Right," he begins, "I'm sorry."

"Hmm," Toby hums untrustingly, holding the sparkling away from him.

Mikaela accepts this, a smile formed on her lips, and brushes her fingers over his helm one last time before sliding over to Sam.

"'Bee," the scout perks up at the mention of his designation, "I want to talk to you about the college thing, okay?"

His radio crackles to life as he does a small dance in joy, snapping his digits to the tune. "~I'm just so excited and I just can't hide it."

"I'm not taking you with me."

The mood changes instantly, Bumblebee's door wings drooping in sadness and Toby's expression contorting in disgust and anger. A loud crackling sound echoes in the now silent room, caused by the young inventor's knuckles as she fists her servo, hissing in annoyance at the damage it does.

"What?!" She roars, blocking her sparkling's audio receptors.

"I'm gonna wait outside, okay?" Mikaela mutters, avoiding eye contact with both Autobots.

"Yeah," Toby grits her teeth, restraining herself from growling. "You do that."

"I wanted to tell you about this earlier," Sam pathetically attempts to excuse his actions. "It's just that—you know, here's the thing. Freshmen aren't allowed to have cars."

The ex-mechanic chuckles darkly, shifting angrily on her feet. "You just rejected his guardianship. Wow. And I thought I couldn't hate you again."

He ignores the woman, carrying on with his awful speech. "If it was up to me, I'd take you with me, but it's not, 'Bee. Look, you're an Autobot. You shouldn't be living in my dad's garage. I mean, you're suffocating in here. You deserve better."

Bumblebee looks away from the young man, clearly on the verge of tears. His friend and medic pats his shoulder strut, offering what comfort she can to him.

Taking his avoidance to heart, Sam whines, trying to force his ex-guardian to look him in the eyes. "It's hard enough as it is, man. Don't make it harder. Can you just look at me, please?"

"Would you look at the person who stabbed you in the back after two years of complete trust?" Toby mumbles, still protecting her young one from potential harsh words.

"Come on, big guy. Look, the guardian thing is done, okay? You did your job. Look, I'm safe now," he explains, though his words make the woman tilt her head in confusion. "You need to go be with Optimus Prime and the others. I just want to be normal, 'Bee. That's why I'm going to college. I can't do that with you. It's not the last time I'm gonna see you, you know, 'Bee."

At this, the scout breaks down into sobs, coolant springing from his optics like a small fountain. He grows distressed as Sam fails to calm him, his trust in the boy diminishing by the second.

"Oh, 'Bee. Come here," Toby soothes, pressing a comforting kiss to his cheek plates, an action copied by the sparkling in her grasp. "It's alright, we'll sort this out."

"Come on, don't do that. 'Bee. You're killing me, 'Bee," Sam turns his gaze downwards, complaining about the things he has no experience in. "But you'll always be my first car. Love you, 'Bee."

He leaves the garage, abandoning the two Autobots without a second glance. The view of his his back is a welcoming sight to the young woman, his words setting her blood to boil.

"I'm sorry, Bumblebee," she sympathises, allowing the 'bot to pick her up and cuddle her like a child to his mother.

A frown creases her expression, her chin resting on top of his helm as he cries in brokenness. Gentle words and soft touches ease the scout into loosening his tight grip, but she doesn't release him, only shifting her sparkling so he can try and bury his face plates in her shirt.

'Bee does as allowed, beeping sadly as he hides in the fabric, antenne low while the woman covers what she can with her jacket. He cries harder, his grief accepted by her without a moment's hesitation, a hand stroking his forehelm.

Embarrassed, he tries to pull away, ashamed of showing such weakness, only to be pulled back into the calming embrace. His cheek plates flush a faded blue when he feels her lips gently press against his intake guard, though he knows that he only shares a sibling-like relationship with her. Although, he sticks his helm into her belly, allowing her warmth to soothe his mental state.

"Oh, 'Bee. I'm sorry, dear," Toby raises his chin with her servo, looking him in the optics. "Look, I know he wants you to come back with me, but I think you should stick around a bit longer okay?"

The scout nods slowly, whining from the lack of contact as he places her back on the ground. His door wings droop at thought of staying on the mainland by himself, but the knowledge that he's doing it to protect Sam keeps him from complaining, despite no longer being his guardian.

A sigh leaves her lips, her fury dispersing slightly. "Thank you." She hums quietly, checking her watch for the time. "Unfortunately, 'Bee, my flight leaves in an hour. I'm gonna hafta ask if you could drop me off at the airport."

He whirs disappointedly, but accepts her request. Though he has one question.

"~What about~squirt?"

The young woman groans, eyes wide as she realises the flaw in her plan. "I'm gonna have to pray to Primus that security doesn't decide to search me. Hopefully my excuse of having metal implants will allow me to skip the check."

'Bee beeps in laughter at the image of her being pulled aside and patted down like people in movies. This earns him a playful smack on the arm.

Finally, having had enough of his lack of attention, the sparkling whacks both of his servos onto Toby's chest, causing her to look down at him. Satisfied with his accomplishment, he squeaks, squirming restlessly in her arms as he tries to get her to release him.

Another groan escapes the woman, knowing that her airport experience is going to be a lot harder than she anticipated. Spotting a stray piece of cloth hanging on the wall, she smiles, the perfect solution coming to mind.

While Bumblebee watches in confusion, she snatches the fabric and starts tying part of it around her waist. Happy with her knot, she sits her fidgety sparkling in front of her where the remainder of the linen rests, quickly pulling it over him to keep him in place. She then finishes with a knot behind her neck, leaving her to look like she's wearing a baby carrier.

Hearing a small chuckle, she looks at the scout with a smile, seeing the accused guilty as charged, hiding his sniggers with a servo. She rolls her eyes, patting him in request.

"Come on, I've got a flight to catch. Evans'll have my head if I miss this," at her silent demand, 'Bee chirps, shifting into his gorgeous yellow and black alt.

Shaking her head at him, she climbs into the driver's seat when the door opens, allowing him to slip the seat belt over her. She runs her thumb over his leather seat, kissing his steering wheel in thanks.

"Let's get to the airport; Will won't be too happy if I make him brave the flight by himself," Toby smiles, looking out his window as he roars his engine.

Primus, let her survive the trip. 

★☆★☆★☆★☆★


	3. | | Newest | |

_"The world came from darkness, so we need not fear it, lest we forget ourselves."_

★☆★☆★☆★☆★  
  
  
  


"Oh, good Primus, Will, remind me to buy you lunch," Toby marches beside her friend, struggling to keep up with his fast pace.

The young man had swooped in at the last possible moment and saved her from the security check, having noticed her unusually panicked expression. It had taken several minutes, and more than a few angry shouts from the people in line, before security had begrudgingly let her go, telling her that she would need an official paper signed by someone of relative important the next time she went anywhere.

"Will do," he shoots her a grin, handing her a lanyard. "And next time, don't forget your ID."

The inventor groans, snatching her property from his outstretched fingers. She stuffs it in her pocket, huffing with annoyance.

"So," Toby glances at him, "what's with the manic behavior? You're usually pretty calm."

She shuffles a bit uncomfortably, shifting the package hidden beneath her jacket. "I'll show you on the plane."

He raises a brow, hoisting his duffle bag back onto his shoulder as he walks through the terminal. Certainly, he trusts the woman, but he's had his fair share of experiences with her that make him more than suspicious of her behavior.

Catching his expression, she corrects his thoughts. "It's nothing like that; it's actually quite serious."

"How serious?" He tilts his head, holding the door open for her as they leave the building, walking towards the military plane on the tarmac.

"I need to talk to Ratchet serious," she hums softly. "But not bad enough to be worried. Just confused."

Will nods slowly, smiling at one of the soldiers finding her seat. Seeing this, Toby gasps dramatically, whacking him in the arm.

"Look at you go, Lover Boy!" She laughs as he frowns, brows furrowed.

"I told you not to call me that."

The inventor grins, shaking her head while she finds her seat. Her hands shift to support the unnatural bulge in her jacket, buckling the seat belt over her lap. Sensing a presence beside her, she looks up at the confused man, brows high in question.

"Last time I checked, you weren't dating anybody, and you certainly weren't pregnant," Toby snorts as she listens. "So what did I miss?"

She chuckles, gesturing to the seat on her left while she unzips her jacket as slowly as possible. "Well, you know that I'll forever be single, and I'm _definitely_ not pregnant. But I do, in a way, have a child."

The concern and confusion on her friend's face very nearly causes her to burst into hysterical laughter, only withholding it in remembrance of her passenger. At the sight of the tiny sparkling, he almost shouts, quickly finding a hand pressed over his mouth.

"Hush! You'll wake him."

Will nods, eyes wide in amazement. Shakily, he gulps, taking in the unexpected information. "So," he hums blankly. "Care to explain?"

"The young inventor sighs, rubbing her forehead. "Believe me, if I could, I would."

"You weren't kidding when you said you needed to talk with Ratchet," he comments, sliding his bag under his seat.

She rolls her eyes, pulling out her phone and flicking it on. "Of course not. I don't joke about this kind of thing."

Feeling a dull gaze on her, the woman looks back up, moving away slightly when discovering Will giving her an unimpressed stare.

"What?"

He opens his mouth to reply, only to shut it again after a moment's thought, shaking his head in dismissal. "Never mind."

Toby shrugs, returning her attention to her phone, mild anxiety crossing her mind. Every possible situation that could have happened to her team in her absence running through her head. She forces them aside as she sets up a connection with her guardian.

**Gears:**   
**Status?**

The seconds tick by, the woman's anxiety rushing back, palm getting sweaty and heart rate increasing. She gulps slightly, holding a shaky hand against her sparkling's back. Every negative feeling increases tenfold as the plane starts to move, and she removes her hand from the youngster to keep herself from gripping him when the plane takes off. Instead, she grabs Will's hand, squeezing it tightly in comfort.

**Piston:**   
**Returning from mission in Shanghai.** **Two Decepticons. No Cybertronian** **casualties. Few human losses. Minor injuries.**

She sighs in relief, only to tense again as the engines roar and the plane makes its way down the runway. The taste of bile rises up in her throat, and she shallows thickly, restraining the impulse to vomit.

**Piston:**   
**Situation report?**

Ah. This should make for a fun discussion when she returns to base. Explaining Samuel's decision to Lennox and Optimus should be marvelously enjoyable. She grimaces at her own sarcasm.

**Gears:**   
**Sam rejected Bumblebee's guardianship. I told him to stick around—keep an optic on the boy. And we have a—shall I say—new member.**

Toby holds a breath as she awaits his response.

**Piston:**   
**What is their designation?**

She tries to respond, but the sudden jerking motion of the plane leaving the ground slams her into her seat with her eyes squeezed shut. Her face pales and she feels beads of sweat run down her forehead. Will doesn't look much better, clutching the seat like a lifeline with his free hand, slowly shuffling further into his seat.

A few minutes later, when the plane levels out, the pair open their eyes again, both surprised to find the sparkling deep in recharge.

The woman shakily regains her grip on her phone, typing quickly to make up for lost time.

**Gears:**   
**He doesn't have one.**

A pause.

**Piston:**   
**Explain.**

**Gears:**   
**Don't freak out.**

**Piston:**   
**I assure you, I will not 'freak out'.**

Toby smirks at his words, knowing that he will not stand by them.

**Gears:**   
**Whatever you say.**

She shifts in her seat, getting comfortable for her soon-to-come entertainment.

**Gears:**   
**He's a sparkling.**

In the pause that the connection goes quiet, she bites her lip, withholding a mad grin of amusement.

**Piston:**   
**That's impossible.**

The inventor laughs aloud at his denial, quickly typing up a response.

**Gears:**   
**No, it's not. He's literally recharging on my chest.**

**Piston:**   
**Yes, it is. All of our sparklings were lost on Cybertron when it died.**

She can practically hear his disbelief.

**Gears:**   
**Maybe those from Cybertron did, but this little guy isn't from your planet.**

**Piston:**   
**I'm afraid I don't understand.**

Toby sighs, understanding the amount of explaining she'll have to do later.

**Gears:**   
**The coffee machine came to life...**

**Piston:**   
**Really.**

The sense of his exasperation is overwhelming.

**Gears:**   
**What?! That's why I currently have a sparkling snuggled up to me! By the way, is it normal for them to recharge through everything?**

**Piston:**   
**Typically, yes. But for an Earth born sparkling, I am unsure.**

**Piston:**   
**Have you claimed him?**

Toby blinks at his question, not understanding what he means.

**Gears:**   
**I'm sorry, what?**

**Piston:**   
**Have you claimed him? You make him out to be quite young, and seem to have taken on the responsibility of caring for him, so, have you claimed him as yours?**

The woman splutters, catching the attention of Will beside her, who turns in his seat to face her. "Are you alright?"

She remains unable to respond, eyes wide and fumbling over her words. With an expression that screams 'help', she looks the man in the eyes, appearing utterly lost.

In an attempt to understand, he tilts her phone screen so he can read the conversation, mumbling quietly as he does. His brows crease and rise the further he reads, each message making him quirk a bit.

It becomes clear when he's reached the final message, as his eyes snap open in surprise, glancing from the woman to the phone.

He clears his throat, softly drawing his friend's attention. "Well, have you?"

His voice shakes her from her daze, his question shocking her into reality. "What? Will! No!"

"Why not?" The man asks simply. "You're clearly attached to him."

Toby sighs, sudden stress and anxiety weighing on her heart. "Will, I'm twenty-one years old. I work in a dangerous environment. I'm not ready for this."

Will rubs the knuckles of her hand, thinking of his own experiences. "I've told you of my story, Toby. I've told you how I felt in my gut, and that I welcomed the change with open arms. This isn't much different."

"Really? I think it is," she snaps, quickly realising what she said. "Sorry."

"It's alright," he murmurs weakly, though the woman knows she stepped over the line.

"No, really. I'm sorry. I know how hard you had it and it was wrong of me to snap," she smiles sadly, recognising the all too familiar gratefulness in the man's eyes.

"I forgive you," Will mumbles quietly, avoiding eye contact despite the genuine tone of his voice.

Hearing a small chirp that interrupts the solemn silence, the inventor looks down at her sparkling, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in a tiny smile at the sight of him snuggling further into her shirt in his recharge.

"I'm really not feeling ready for this kind of responsibility, Will," she admits lowly, ashamed of herself. "I don't exactly have the best track record for keeping things alive."

Will sighs, rubbing his temples as he remembers the stories of her attempted garden. "What do your instincts say?"

"I don't know. My emotions are all muddled right now," she rubs her eyes, playing with her phone in her servo.

"Well," the engineer begins slowly, tapping his chin in thought. "If you don't know, maybe he does."

Toby raises a brow, following his gaze to the little one blanketed by her jacket. "The sparkling?"

Will nods, absently gesturing with his hands. "Yeah. If they're anything like human children, it's quite possible that he's imprinted on you. Like a child to their mother."

The woman grows uncomfortable with the term 'mother', but agrees with her friend. "Bumblebee said something similar to me. I just dismissed it, but it might be the case."

"Then we'll see when he wakes up," he hums, smiling at the youngster. "You should tell Ratchet that your response is a 'work in progress'."

"Yeah," she says softly, switching her phone back on.

**Gears:**   
**Sorry about that. I'm not currently sure. Will discuss further at base.**

**Piston:**   
**Good. And when you get back, check up on Optimus. I have a feeling that he's going to try and avoid the med bay.**

**Gears:**   
**He only does that because you scold him when he gets injured. Anything else?**

**Piston:**   
**Shut the twins up.**

**Gears:**   
**Now, Piston, I'm not a miracle worker.**

**Piston:**   
**Don't call me that.**

**Gears:**   
**Sure thing, Doc.**

Toby smiles at her interaction, placing her phone back in her pocket.

"Sorted?" Will cocks his head, earning a small laugh from his friend.

"Yeah, all sorted," she grins, leaning her forehead on the rim of the window, watching wisps of white cloud be sliced in half by the airplane wing as it flies through them.

★☆★☆★☆★☆★

"Autobot twins, report to hangar three."

The woman groans, picking up her pace to avoid the aggravating twins, huffing upon realising that she's not even halfway across the floor.

"Just my luck," she mutters, hiding her face as a rusty, piece-of-complete-scrap ice cream truck with flaking pink and white paint rolls through the hangar doors.

"Oh, hello~," a voice purrs, the truck circling around two modified Chevrolet compounds, a scarlet red Chevrolet Trax and a lime green Chevrolet Beat.

"Yeah, baby, it's upgrade time," the truck growls, revving its engine before breaking in half.

The metal from both sides shift and click, two 'bots tumbling onto the floor as their armour snaps into place. They grumble at each other briefly, only stopping to admire the new cars.

"Yes, oh, yeah," one says excitedly, servos hovering over the polished metal. "Look here."

While the pair are distracted, Toby bolts to hide behind a white display sheet, sending a desperate expression towards the men standing watch. A few smirk, finding amusement in her situation.

One chuckles soundlessly, and the woman shoots the older soldier a glare, signing furiously with her hands. They shrug, signing a short word before wandering elsewhere, much to her relief.

Seeing that the coast is clear, she rushes out from hiding, wincing every time her pede comes in contact with the concrete floor, creating a tapping sound. She supports the youngster in her grasp with her hand, trying to keep her servo from sustaining more damage.

Reaching the human-sized doorway, she turns as the two Autobots start speaking again. "Time to get my sexy on."

Unable to resist the urge to roast him, she grins, eyes glinting with mischief. "And what 'sexy' would that be? As far as I'm aware, neither of you have any!"

The two spin around in surprise, Skids looking particularly wounded. "'Ey! That hurts!"

The woman shrugs cheekily, still wearing her manic grin. "Well, it ain't my fault you can't handle the truth!"

"'Ey, now, Gears," Mudflap argues. "We don't treat our favourite doc like that, now do we?"

"You flirt with me," Toby fires back. "And fight in the med bay. And argue on the air strip. And just make my job harder in general."

"We don't do none o' that," he tries to express their innocence, earning him a raised brow.

"Whatcha doin' back already, Gears? You ain't meant t' be back 'til tomorra'," Skids asks in his usual, obnoxious way, clearly recovered from the earlier insult.

The inventor throws her servo out in a halfhearted display of casualty. "Business as usual, boys, business as usual."

She walks backwards into the corridor, turning as she does so, effectively escaping the two irritating Autobots. A sigh of relief leaves her lips, walking with haste along the wall, awaiting the discovery of her workshop.

The sliding glass doors come into view just as the woman counts the final door between the 'shop and hangar three, a pleased smile forming on her lips. They open with a small 'ding', the pitched noise stirring her sparkling from slumber.

"Well, hello," she greets the sleepy youngster warmly. "Did you enjoy your recharge?"

He replies with an unhappy whine, tiredly rubbing his optics. Toby chuckles, patting his back before grabbing a hand-sized device sitting on an uncharacteristically organised worktable. Having gained the item she requires, she marches back out, leaving the room to remain in darkness.

As she walks further down the corridor towards the Autobots' hangar, an unfamiliar, yet firmly annoying, voice filters into her ears, making her frown in confusion. There aren't supposed to be any visitors or newcomers for at least three weeks. Whoever it is better keep their mouth shut, the young woman isn't in any mood to deal with morons and their scrap.

She shakes her head, entering the hangar, frown at all the 'bots lined up in their alt modes, something they never do unless some government official decides to make an appearance. Up on the catwalk, the usual communications team works, setting up some sort of video call, most likely with the general, while Lennox and Robert show an unknown man in a business suit around. Toby wrinkles her nose at the sight of the balding man, already feeling the disrespect rolling off him.

With a resigned sigh, the inventor walks into the massive room, destination set on the catwalk, seeing Optimus on his way over to the same place.

"Secured line to JCS is up, Major," a man by the name of Lee calls down to the trio, his superior reacting immediately, marching over with the others hot on his heels, only abandoning them at the bottom of the catwalk stairs.

The young woman brushes past the two unmoving men, catching the confused but irritated glare from the man with glasses. She ignores him, patting her uncle's arm in greeting before making her way up the stairs, securely holding her sparkling to her chest. Just as she squeezes past one of the desks to reach her usual sitting spot, General Morshower's face pops up on one of the large monitors. She gives him her signature manic grin, faltering when she fails to see the typical friendly sparkle in his eyes.

"That bad, huh?" Her mutter gains a subtle nod from Lennox, turning her grin into a frown.

She wedges herself past the major, stiffly greeting Morshower before promptly disappearing from his view, sitting down near the edge of the catwalk. Her legs dangle from the platform, a metal bar in front of her chest to keep her from toppling to her doom. Though she sits comfortably, she holds her sparkling closer with her servo, nuzzling his forehelm with her nose to quell his chirps for attention.

"Saw the Shanghai op," the general starts solemnly. "It was a rough day."

"Yes, sir," Lennox agrees, though his expression is more hardened than grim. "We have intel that I believe warrants an immediate debrief."

Toby hums absently, turning on the device in her hand, her attention solely on the scanner as it flickers. A soft growl of irritation when, like most programmed devices, it refuses to work in her grasp.

Her sparkling whines in confusion, looking from the device to his foster mother with sympathy. All he knows is that the object is causing her distress, and he must fix that.

With an upset chirp, he grabs the item with a servo, twittering at it in a pout. It flickers to life.

"Thank you," the young woman whispers in awe, kissing his helm. "You're a little star."

"Now, with your permission, I can't let you see him, but I would like you to hear from the leader of the Autobots," Lennox awaits his superior's order, Optimus patiently waiting for his cue from below.

"Proceed."

Metal plates adjust themselves, shifting aside to make room for the gears and pistons popping into place. The semi truck's wheels spin furiously as they find their positions on his stabilisers, cables securing them to his armour. His back struts straighten out, bringing his helm to tower over the humans on the catwalk.

Toby lets out a breath of utter awe, smiling with bright eyes at the leader she admires so much. Her sparkling seems to share her thought, his optics wide in admiration and jis little intake open in delight, making his carer chuckle before she loosens the fabric restraining him, allowing him to freely turn and watch the massive Cybertronian.

"Primus that never gets old," the inventor murmurs to herself, earning a short chirp of unknowing agreement from the youngster.

"General, our alliance has countermanded six Decepticon incursions this year, each on a different continent," Optimus explains the situation, his baritone voice sending involuntary shivers down everyone's spine. "They're clearly searching for something. But last night's encounter came with a warning."

A raspy, croaking voice erupts from static, making the sparkling whimper and hide in the woman's shirt. " **~The Fallen shall rise again~** "

Toby's head snaps up, eyes wide and jaw set, something deep in her being stirring in pulsing warning. The feeling of imminent danger doesn't cease, only swirling like an ocean current along rock shore, causing her to instinctively bare her teeth in a silent snarl, holding her sparkling tight to her chest.

"'The Fallen'. Meaning what?"

Again, warning signs flash in her mind, drawing her to sit straighter in preparation for whatever it is.

"Origin: unknown," the Prime says lowly, glancing at his secondary medic in question.

"The only recorded history of their race was contained within the Allspark, and lost with its destruction." The soldiers fail to realize that Optimus is no longer speaking, the information being shared by the young woman by his side.

"Excuse me!"

Said woman swallows the taste of rising bile, her emotions raging forcefully, not at all eased by the voice of a man whom she does not know or trust.

The formal visitor steps away from her uncle, scaling the stairs as fast as he can, a bratty expression clear on his face. "With this so-called 'Allspark' now destroyed, why hasn't the enemy left like you thought they would?"

Toby scowls, grip firm on her sparkling and scanner as she types in what she wants, bringing up the program for the Prime's physiology.

Lennox sighs, repressing a loud groan. "Director Galloway," he introduces, the inventor sighing at her final recognition of his name, "our national security advisor. The President just named him liaison."

"Well, I guess I didn't get that memo," the general states in annoyance.

"You and me both," the young woman mumbles, gesturing for Optimus to give her his servo.

"Forgive the interrupt, General," Galloway dismisses rudely, making him frown at the liaison's behavior, not pleased with being disrespected.

Toby growls lowly, a fire kindling in her eyes as she takes a sample of the Autobot's energeon. She taps his digit, inserting a tiny vial into the scanner before looking up to find his optics locked on her.

"Later," she promises, knowing that he's certainly shocked to find that she's carrying a Cybertronian sparkling.

He nods, turning his attention to the new liaison.

"After all the damage in Shanghai," Galloway not-so-subtly accuses, "the President is, uh, hard-pressed to say the job's getting done."

The woman inhales sharply, insulted and put-off by her superior. Sensing her distress, the sparkling purrs cutely, snuggling into her chest, successfully calming her heart rate. He chirps quietly, earning a gentle pat on his helm.

"Now, under the classified Alien Autobot Cooperation Act, you are agreeing to share your intel with us," the liaison says, enjoying his new position all too much, "but not your advancements in weaponry."

A startling 'crunch' echoes through the base, causing every head to turn towards the young woman sitting on the ledge, crushed metal in her servo and glass shards littering the platform.

"Scrap," she groans. "I needed that."

"We've witnessed your human capacity for war," Optimus narrows his optics at the pathetic man, pointing harshly at him. "It would _absolutely_ do more harm than good."

Uncaring for his actions and words, or perhaps just plain cocky, Galloway leans forwards over the railing, a sneer on his lips. "But who are you to judge what's best for us?"

Metal clangs deafeningly, a blur of movement flashing in his peripheral, making him glance over at the 'newcomer'. The inventor stands with her hand on the railing and servo supporting a small bundle. Pure fury rages behind her eyes, startling him into stepping backwards as she storms forwards, soldiers moving aside to make way for her bubbling anger.

"And who are you to decide the fate of humanity?!" She hisses dangerously, knuckles whitening with her increasing force on the metal railing.

"Toby," Optimus warns lowly. "Stand down."

She takes a deep, shuddering breath, avoiding the man's eyes by locking her gaze on her uncle.

"With all due respect, sir, we've been fighting in the field side-by-side for two years," Robert interrupts, vocalizing his thoughts while trying to spare his niece from the infuriating liaison. "We've shared blood, sweat, and precious metal together."

"Soldier, you're paid to shoot, not talk," Robert's eyes widen slightly before darkening tremendously at his dismissal.

"Don't tempt me," he growls, turning away from the scene, his words causing the woman's lips to twitch upwards.

"Easy," the Prime commands him, briefly glancing at him to make sure he doesn't get trodden on.

"And you!" Galloway turns on the recovering woman, a flash of anger igniting in her eyes before she quells it, regaining her composure. "What's a civilian doing on base?!"

Toby rolls her eyes, clearing her throat. "I'm not a civilian, sir."

"Then you're a soldier! I can have you court martialed for speaking back to a superior officer!"

Lennox steps forward to explain, only to have the medic raise her hand to him, asking him to allow her to handle this. Almost reluctantly, as he knows she has the ability and the knowledge to utterly humiliate the liaison, he retreats, sharing a look with Morshower.

"I'm afraid you can't do that," before he can reply, she silences him with a sharp glare. "Sir, you are speaking to the secondary Autobot medic, the only human member of said faction."

Galloway looks taken aback, as though he has never heard of the woman, despite her well known reputation on base and with those associated. His features contort like a child denied what he wants, pouting over his lost chance to get her in some sort of trouble. A huff of annoyance leaves his lips, and he starts to turn around, only for something to catch his eye.

"What is _that?_ "

All eyes snap to the young woman, specifically to the now-squirming piece of fabric covering her front. She shifts uncomfortably, but confidently, and with her gaze locked on the accusing man, she lifts her babbling sparkling from the sheet, the youngster 'gumming' his digits.

Audible gasps and mumbles can be heard from the surrounding soldiers, and Toby can clearly see the confused scowl on Lennox's face.

"He's a sparkling," she answers simply, momentarily placing him on her shoulder while she unties the cloth with her hand. "Didn't think that this particular moment would be the best to reveal him."

Lennox nods at this information, accepting it for the time being. The inventor smiles smugly, daring Galloway to say anything against her in this moment.

"'Sparkling' is their term for 'child', _sir_ ," she mocks him, resting the youngster on her hip.

"I know that," the liaison hisses curtly, his defensive attitude expressing his lie for all to see. "Do you think I'm stupid?!"

Toby bites her tongue to keep herself from saying 'yes', instead shaking her head in false disagreement. "No, sir. Just," she draws out the word, selecting her choice carefully, "uninformed."

Before he has a chance to shout at her for the insult, the general decides to interrupt, despite only understanding the gist of the situation. "Mister Galloway, Hills is the most informed in Cybertronian terms and expressions. We require her to explain unfamiliar terms, and as she has not made your acquaintance prior to now, she referred to our agreement and defined the term." Had she been in his sights, he would have shot her a subtle glare to agree with him, despite her intentions to not get in trouble.

"Sure," the woman licks her lips. "We'll go with that."

Galloway grumbles, unconvinced, turning on his heel with a short glare to the medic before facing the giant Autobot. He plants his hands firmly on the railing, narrowing his eyes at Optimus, keeping in mind the inventor that stands uncomfortably close.

"The newest members of your team; I understand they arrived here after you sent a message into space. An open invitation to come to Earth, embedded by no-one at the White House," the liaison accuses, earning a repressed sigh of irritation from Toby, and a murmur of disagreement from the nearby soldiers.

"Let me stop you right there, Mister Galloway," Morshower speaks before he can go too far, correcting his statement. "It was bedded right here. And in my experience, the judgement of both Major Lennox and his team, has always been above reproach."

Toby puffs out her chest in pride, quietly chuckling at the sight of her sparkling mimicking the action. She tickles his chassis, causing him to burst into adorable, squeaky giggles before grabbing her fingers in apparent fascination and sticking them in his tiny intake, 'gumming' on them lightly.

"Well, be that as it may, General, it is the position of the President that when our national security is at stake, no-one is above reproach."

The woman literally feels the air leave her, similar to a deflated balloon, every last ounce of pride and positivity draining from her body. Only the necessity to keep her composure restrains her from saying something she'll regret.

"Now, what do we know?"Galloway starts again, not once losing the predatory gleam in his eyes. "We know that the enemy leader, classified NBE-1, AKA Megatron, is resting in peace at the bottom of the Laurentian Abyss, surrounded by societs detection nets and a full-time submarine surveillance."

Toby hisses with a sharp intake of air, her eyes wide at the information the liaison is giving freely. She tries to gain Lennox's attention, shaking her head furiously, growling slightly when he fails to see her.

"We also know that the only remaining piece of your alien Allspark is locked in an electromagnetic vault, here on one of the most secure naval bases in the world," he continues to drone on, completely disregarding the desperate inventor now speaking rapidly with Lee.

"Run a scan," she whispers in panic. "Do what can be done to make sure no-one is listening in."

"Gears, nobody's listening," the soldier replies calmly, confident in his team.

The woman groans, sending a silent plea to Primus as Galloway glares at Optimus. "And since no-one can seem to tell me what the enemy is now after, well, there—there's only one clear conclusion. You."

To distract herself from completely decking the fool, she mindlessly strokes her sparkling's helm, gritting her teeth to the point that she's almost positive she chips one. Her sparkling chirps happily, pleased with the attention and oblivious to the situation taking place.

"The Autobots. They're here to hunt you. What's here on Earth besides that? 'The Fallen shall rise again'? Sounds to me like something's coming," Optimus growls quietly at that, dermas raised in a slight snarl of displeasure as the man places his hands on his hips. "So let me ask; if we ultimately conclude that our national security is best served by denying your further asylum on _our_ planet, will you leave peacefully?"

"Freedom is your right. If you make that request, we will honour it," Toby frowns at his agreement, saddened by the thought of her family leaving. "But before your president decides, please ask him this. What if we leave and you're wrong?"

She nods grimly, glancing at her leader. "That's a brilliant point."

At that, the meeting ends, the general signing off to complete other duties, and the other soldiers dispersing to do theirs. During the slight commotion, Toby hands off her sparkling to Lee, ignoring his desperate pleas to be returned to her arms as she turns on Galloway.

"Are you a complete idiot?!" She roars, towering over the man, startling him more than Lennox who fails to even flinch. "Do you have any idea what you've just done?!"

"I made my point," he concludes, unknowing of what he's said.

"No, you moron! You shared classified information over video!" A loud crack can be heard as she tightens her fists in anger, her servo sustaining an unhealthy amount of damage.

The liaison looks unfazed, but the woman can see him gulp nervously, and the beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He clears his throat, adjusting his glasses in what would appear to be a cocky action to most, but is clearly one of realization.

"We'll double the guards and notify the navy," Lennox reassures, looking at the exhausted woman. "I will deal with this, you need to get some rest."

Toby groans into her damaged servo, rubbing her eyes before agreeing. "Don't mess anything up. Please."

Lennox nods, guiding the liaison away from her to ensure he doesn't rile her up again. She watches half heartedly as they make their way down the stairs, finally feeling her own exhaustion catch up with her.

A desperate babble makes her look up at a struggling Lee, finding him fighting to keep the squirmy sparkling from falling out of his arms. The youngster hits the man's chest, reaching for Toby with grabbing servos, coolant brimming in his optics as he cries for her.

She collects herself, rushing over and saving the upset sparkling from her winded friend. "Shh. It's okay. It's okay. You're alright, darling, I'm here now."

She hushes him, shooting an apologetic look to Lee as she scoops him from the soldier's arms. He shrugs, smiling at the sight of the bawling sparkling being comforted by the inventor. The sight truly is adorable, the youngster curled up in her arms, his helm nestled underneath her chin while her hand supports his rump and her servo soothingly strokes his back struts as he clings to her dusty shirt.

"Oh, shut up, Lee," the man laughs at her, waving her off as he returns to work.

Toby bounces her sparkling, nuzzling his helm with her nose, easing his cries into hiccups as coolant no longer runs down his cheek plates. She smiles at him, eyes warm and gentle before she gives his forehelm a loving kiss.

Optimus observes the situation with a warm spark, having seen the woman grow from nothing to his secondary medic. It was clear to him, however, that she had been missing something in her life, a little fire to light the darker days. They had lost Autobots. Not many, but it did happen. And every single time, Toby would try, try, and try to fix them up, staying with them until the end when she couldn't do anything. Afterwards, it would take weeks for the woman to recover, locking herself in her workshop, only coming out for meals before disappearing inside again. The cycle was endless, and in the end, only Ratchet and himself could convince her to come out. But now she has something to keep her alive, someone to keep her on her toes when she needs it.

"Toby," the woman looks up at him, smile faltering in the slightest as she remembers the situation. "He has imprinted on you."

The hope returns to her eyes, both his approval and acknowledgement lighting up her heart like a burning sun. A broad smile takes its place on her lips, tears brimming her eyes in joy.

"He will need a designation."

Toby nods, looking past the Autobot at the brightening morning sky, colours of gold and rose melting into the midnight blue sky, stars of iridium silver twinkling in the heavens. The greatest constellations are not visible in this sky, the familiar shapes appearing elsewhere for others to admire, but it does not dampen the woman's spirits, nor does it change her mind.

"Aquarius," she starts, gazing deep into the leader's optics. "Aquarius Orion Hills."

Optimus is taken aback, but his expression displays nothing but fondness for the inventor, now shared with the sparkling in her arms. "Welcome to the Autobots, young Aquarius."

The woman smiles, looking down to find her son staring at her leader in absolute wonder, tears dry and forgotten. "You hear that, Akk? You're one of us now. I'm your mommy."

Aquarius gazes at his mother with unimaginable respect and admiration, smiling adorably as he pats her chest. "M-m-momma!"

Toby definitely cries, small tears running down her cheeks. "Yeah, darling. I am."

★☆★☆★☆★☆★


	4. | | A Held Grudge | |

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, please, PLEASE ignore the awkward mention of the LGBTQ+ community. I hate it with every fibre of my being but during the time this was written, I had several people wanting Ratchet and Toby to be an item. I wanted to point it out at the time and now I can't be bothered to edit it out.   
> Anyways, happy reading!

“Stop fidgeting!”

“Maybe I would if it wasn’t so uncomfortable!” Toby grumbles loudly, shifting in her seat again.

Ratchet smacks her upside the head with a vocal growl, glaring at her as he returns to fixing her damaged servo. Using his mass displacement, the medic currently pokes and prods at the now vulnerable protoform, having removed the small pieces of armour that once covered it.

“Ow,” the woman complains, sourly rubbing her head in pain.

“That wouldn’t of happened had you listened to me the first time,” he says gruffly, optics solely focused on finding the source of the breakage.

“Didn’t mean you had to hit so hard, Piston,” she whines, watching her guardian while he works.

“Don’t call me that.”

The inventor sighs, glancing at the door where Jolt had disappeared with Aquarius several minutes prior. The young sparkling had made quite the fuss, upset that he wasn’t allowed to be anywhere near Toby while Ratchet repaired her, and had made the mechs offline their audials with his screams. If not for his mother reassuring him that she’d see him soon, he likely would have dented Jolt’s armour further than he already had.

“Pass me the pliers, would you?” The medic sticks out his servo in demand, his optics still locked on her knuckles. 

Toby obliges, reaching onto the organised worktop and grabbing a red handled pair of pliers from a selection. She places them in his servo, twitching in displeasure as he twists the broken metal back into place. 

Noticing this, Ratchet glances up at her with a raised optic brow, pausing his work for half a moment. “How did you manage this? Three of your primary pistons are broken, and your pressure valve has been twisted to an extraordinary extent.”

She bites her lip, looking at the floor in embarrassment. “I cracked my knuckles when Sam told ‘Bee that he didn’t want his guardianship.”

The medic snorts, removing the pliers from her servo to ensure he doesn’t cause any more damage in his amusement. He shakes his helm, placing down the pliers and transforming his servo into a welder.

“At least it’s a better reason than what the twins had the other day,” Toby tilts her head in curiosity, always up to hear the ridiculous situations the young recruits get themselves into.

“What did they do? Last time I dealt with them, they’d got their helms stuck together,” she shudders involuntarily as her guardian adjusts another broken piece of her servo.

“They thought they’d try out their alt underwater,” the woman blinks at him, already knowing what the result of such a moronic act. “The saltwater flooded their systems and jammed their T-cogs. I spent three hours flushing them out.”

“Did they not learn from when Sideswipe fell in?” She scoffs, reminiscing the speeding incident. 

The corvette had decided to race around the base as fast as his alt would allow, doing donuts around the planes on the airfield. Then he had misjudged a turning, and when he drifted, he slid off the tarmac, tumbling into the ocean. His reaction speed was what had saved him from damaging his transformation cognition, but the saltwater caused several of his systems to glitch, meaning that Ironhide had needed to come and rescue the stiff ‘bot. To add insult to injury, the twins had taken to calling him ‘Stiffy’ for the following weeks, the image of Toby washing out his gear box engraved in their processors.

“Apparently not,” he hands her a pair of shaded goggles and places a damp cloth on her exposed skin, protecting her skin from stray sparks.

Without hesitation, the inventor pulls the welding shades over her head, carefully positioning the lens. Not a second passes before sparks start flying, Toby locking her muscles to restrain herself from squirming in discomfort as the medic welds her broken pistons back together. The sensation disappears quickly, Ratchet having stopped to untwist the pressure valve, which she knows will be worse to experience as it controls every sense of touch she has in her arm.

Either not caring, or too preoccupied with his repairs, her guardian yanks the bent metal without warning, causing the woman to yelp loudly in displeasure. He stands from his position, removing the cloth and releasing her servo as he cracks his stiff back struts.

Toby rubs her knuckles with disdain, glaring at Ratchet with a frown on her face. He smirks at her, taking his smaller tools and placing them back where they belong, ignoring her pout.

“A little warning would’ve been nice,” she grumbles, removing the goggles and dropping them in his outstretched servo.

He chuckles, shaking his helm at her sour attitude. “Then you wouldn’t have stopped complaining.”

She scowls in offense, crossing her arms. “I don’t complain. I  _ whine _ .”

Despite Ratchet’s tease, he knows that his charge tends to do neither, oftentimes finding her doing something that nobody else dares to do without a word. Several instances come to processor when he thinks of it, one of them being the time he discovered her removing pieces of scrap metal from her hand and chest after one of her creations misfired. All she’d done was grimace in pain as each item was pulled from her flesh. He had shouted at her for that, unable to believe her stubbornness for not going straight to the medical bay. She’d told him then that ‘it’s just a cut’ and that she’d ‘dealt with worse’. The rest of the evening had been spent with the two of them sitting in her workshop as the medic removed the metal and bandaged each wound with extreme care. 

He pats her shoulder as he passes, rolling the worktop into his ‘desk’ before disengaging his mass displacement. Several of his joints pop as they adjust, making Toby cock a brow as she steps back, though her guardian is already prepared to avoid her small form.

“Let’s see this sparkling of yours, shall we?” He offers his servo, raising it to his shoulder once the woman hops on.

“You’ve already seen him, Piston,” she reminds the neon mech, eyelids drooping in exhaustion. “You’ve also seen him fuss.”

“Ah, yes,” the pair look up to greet the weapons specialist. “Screaming sparklings. Always the joy of the world.”

“He’s not screaming is he?” She frowns in concern, only to make Ironhide chuckle.

“Nah, just a little upset. Calmed right down after Jolt handed him to Chromia,” he assures her, placing his servos on his hips.

She breathes in relief, rubbing her face to rid herself of further exhaustion. “Thank Primus for that.”

Both mechs chuckle at her, earning a groan from her. She mumbles incoherently into her hands, muttering about ‘never getting a break’ and something similar to ‘cupcakes’.

“All Autobots to hangar one, plane to New Jersey base taking off in twenty minutes.”

All three of them groan, though Ironhide grunts more than groans, and Toby only just restrains herself from bursting into tears. It’s a well known fact for those on base that the Autobots hate flying, considering the Cybertronians get tied down in their alt modes so they don’t move during flight. But the woman only got off her flight an hour ago, and the thought of doing it again makes her feel nauseous and dizzy.

Sensing this, Ratchet offers her his digits for comfort, her response being a tight hug as she hides her head. “Pray it’s the last flight we go on for some time.”

She hums loudly, not wanting to reply with understandable words while her dislike of airplanes haunts her mind. “Ohrebeehm.”

“What was that?” Ironhide looks at her in concern.

“Already done,” the inventor lifts her head up, moaning in annoyance. She observes her placement for a second before brightening slightly. “Could you put me down, Piston? I have to grab something.”

Not without his suspicions, the mech obliges, narrowing his optics at the young woman as she scampers back into hangar two, stumbling once in her haste. He glances back at Ironhide, who shrugs in a display of lacking knowledge, and raises an optic brow.

“No, I don’t know what she’s doing,” he lifts his servos in surrender. “Just because I spend a good portion of my time with her, doesn’t mean I can read her processor.”

“Brain,” Ratchet corrects gruffly, rolling his shoulder struts before stepping into stride with the weapons specialist. “And before you even think about teasing; no, she does not display interest in me, nor anyone else.”

“It’s just a tease,” Ironhide defends with a frown, servos behind his back.

The medic sighs in annoyance, tired of hearing the same words from the black mech. He mumbles a silent apology in advance of what he’s about to do. “Ironhide, Toby displays, nor experiences interest in anyone or anybot for very good reason. She explained to me a while back that she identifies with a community of people called ‘the LGBTQ+ community’, specifically a minor group that call themselves ‘asexual aromantics’.”

He scowls in confusion, staring at the ground in thought. “What does that have to do with attractions?”

Ratchet halts the mech, looking him in the optics, letting him know that this is a mildly sensitive topic to be mentioned. “Everything. It’s an identity she uses to explain that she is incapable of feeling romantic or sexual attraction.”

Ironhide’s optics widen, and he fights back the blue blush threatening to spread across his faceplates. The shame he feels, he can’t begin to describe. For two whole years he has teased his comrades about what he thought was a relationship waiting to happen, only to discover that he’s been wrong all along.

His friend shakes his helm in mild amusement, turning back to their original path with him following closely behind. He watches the soldiers race back and forth from the Autobot hangar and the planes waiting outside, optics identifying each of the men and women joining them on the trip to New Jersey. One in particular, he finds himself studying, having followed the gaze of the weapons specialist to a young man.

Will Evans, if his memory banks serve him right, an engineer and a close friend of Toby’s. And, according to his scans, a man that is more than meets the eye.

“Got your optic on something, ‘Hide?” Both mechs face the silver newcomer, Sideswipe.

Ironhide grunts, rolling his optics before marching off to find Lennox, leaving behind a smirking scout and an amused medic. 

“He’ll never admit it,” Sideswipe says, watching him disappear into the hangar.

“Of course he won’t, what were you expecting?” The neon mech shakes his helm, standing aside to make room for his teammates as they gather, awaiting his charge’s arrival.

The rumble of an obscure sounding engine echoes through the base, causing Ratchet to look up for the source. A heavily modified, white Kawasaki Ninja motorbike with neon streaks of yellow slashed along its sides rolls out of hangar two, a figure in a white racer’s helmet, carrying what seems to be a red patterned rucksack riding it.

They rev the engine before speeding alongside the building and driving right between the medic’s stabilisers, giving him a pretty good idea of who it is. 

Toby does a small donut in front of her guardian to show off her creation, grinning in pride beneath her helmet, pleased with her success. Dust encircles her, the wheels of the bike kicking it up in her display, adding to the reveal of her year-and-a-half long project. To some, it’s just another bike, but to her, it’s a masterpiece. The engine is completely made by her hand, not a single function similar to any motor on the market, and the tiniest addition of energeon gives it its raw power.

“Are you done?”

The inventor nods, pulling off her helmet with a sigh of exhilaration, her ginger hair falling out in the most unattractive way. She spits out the hair in her mouth, grooming it back with her servo, staring at her silver strand for a brief moment before hopping off.

“I won’t be useless during missions now!” She laughs, pushing her bike towards one of the open Globemasters.

“No-one says you’re useless,” Ratchet assures, swiftly transforming into his ambulance alt as her follows her.

“That’s not what I meant, Piston,” Toby shakes her head, backing up her bike into the plane, leaving her guardian room to reverse in. “I like working on the side, but I prefer to be in the middle of things, using my size against the Decepticons.”

“And we both know how that turned out,” he adds grimly.

She sighs, glancing at him with regret. She’ll never forget the fear in his voice, nor desperation in his acts on the day of the battle. Then during her surgery, she had heard the guilt and strain in his vocals, not registering it at the time. He had been scared for her, and hadn’t bothered hiding it from the other ‘bots, something she found him to do quite often with little everyday things.

“Ratchet,” she hums in comfort, only looking away from him to secure her bike to the plane interior. “Megatron’s dead, and I actually know what I’m doing now.”

A warning growl makes her look up at the medic, soldiers backing away from him with warranted haste, his alt shaking in dislike. She chuckles at him, taking ropes from a soldier’s hands as she approaches her guardian, intent on securing him properly.

“Still don’t like us, huh?” She muses, threading the rope through his wheels before looping it through the metal fastener on the floor.

“I don’t like  _ them _ . I don’t mind you,” he corrects stiffly, bringing his emotional barrier back up.

“But I’m human,” Toby grits her teeth, grimacing at the memories of Sector Seven capturing Bumblebee. Certainly not human by choice.

“Physically, yes. Mentally, I’m not so sure,” the woman frowns at his words, softly patting his hood as she leaves the plane.

“I’ll be back in a sec’,” she hums, marching across the tarmac towards the group of readying Autobots, the Arcee triplets cooing gently at the little sparkling in Chromia’s servos.

The inventor smiles tiredly at them, the dark circles all too clear under her ice blue eyes. Nothing can compare to the joy she receives when she sees Aquarius, personally thinking his mere presence is ‘a hundred times better than a shot of pure caffeine’. Something inside her awoke from eternal slumber when she ‘sparked’ him to life, resulting in her unnatural urge to protect him. That protectiveness is what kept her from sleeping for the whole thirty-three plus hour flight from LA, her mind not allowing to shut off for some much needed shut-eye.

“How’s he doin’?” she questions dozily, receiving pitying expressions from the colourful trio.

Aquarius squeals happily in response to her voice, huffing as he struggles to be released by the blue femme. They chuckle at the chirping sparkling, carefully returning him to his mother’s hands, watching with fond smiles as he immediately snuggles into her shirt.

“I guess that’s my answer,” she smiles warmly, nodding in sincere thanks to her friends.

“Ah! Ah-ba!” He demands cutely, opening and closing his intake, his request becoming clear as day when his tank rumble.

She chuckles soundlessly, shaking her head as she walks back to the airplane, cradling her son in her arms. To ease his relentless demand for energeon, the woman preoccupies him by ‘buzzing’ and wiggling her finger as though it’s a creature, twirling it around the mesmerized youngster before darting to his chassis and tickling him.

She’s rewarded with a high pitched giggle, prompting her to repeat her action of playfulness. As she plays with him, he squeals in laughter, swatting at her hand with his tiny servos, an adorable smile on his faceplates.

Finding him to quickly lose his breath, Toby halts in her assault, kissing his helm while brushing her hand against Ratchet’s door in a gentle greeting. The door swings open per her silent request, and the woman hops in, sliding her rucksack onto his cabin floor.

Aquarius’ unwavering request for fuel returns swiftly, now that his processor has little to focus on other than the empty feeling in his tanks. Watching his mother dig around in her bag, he whines uncomfortably, patting her chest with a pout.

“Just one moment, Akk,” she assures. “You’ll get your wish in a second.”

Not a moment too soon, she grasps what she’s looking for, and pulls out a small cube of low grade energeon. But before she can give it to the sparkling, she requires a means of administering it. Forever thankful that she had discovered the use of sippy cup in an environment where spilling liquid could be fatal, to person or machine, she uncovers a bright green toddler’s juice cup, quickly unscrewing it and placing it on Ratchet’s dashboard.

“You couldn’t have found anywhere else?” He rumbles in annoyance, making his charge shake her head as she leans Aquarius against her belly, breaking off a corner of the energeon cube.

“Not right now, Piston,” she picks the cup back up and starts pouring the glowing blue liquid into it, holding out of the reach of the youngster.

With his whining growing increasing louder by the second, she twists the lid back on and hands it to the grabby sparkling, guiding the mouth piece to his intake. She sighs in relief, though pulls it away slightly as he tries to chug it all in one go, encouraging him to consume it at a slower pace.

Both Autobots relax when the last of the energeon disappears from the bottle, a small burp escaping Aquarius as he chirps contently, snuggling into the warmth of his mother’s stomach. In response to his newly acquired necessity to fall into recharge, the woman cradles him, laying him on her arm with a hand over his belly.

In the corner of her eye, Toby can see the soldiers joining them inside, several walking alongside a reversing Ironhide. The Topkick pickup grunts as he stops, disliking the feeling of the humans hooking ropes and the likes onto his alt, but otherwise does nothing about it.

What does make the inventor look up, however, is the almost unnoticeable steam rising from his pipes when he opens his door for one of the men. Will smiles at the gesture and hops up into his cabin, thanking the weapons specialist when his alt lowers for the man’s convenience.

“‘Hide’s as stubborn as pits; he’s never gonna say anything.”

Ratchets hums in agreement, buckling his seat belt across his charge. “That much is true.”

“I might have to change that,” Toby smirks to herself, yawning widely as she struggles to keep her eyes open.

“Maybe,” the seat warms, drawing the woman closer to the cusp of unconsciousness, “but for now, you should sleep.”

“I’ll—” she yawns again, “—I’ll have t’ take you up on that.”

The cabin rumbles softly, her head falling limply against the headrest, eyelids fluttered shut as she enters the dream world for the first time in over seventy-two hours. Her breaths slow, evenly lifting the strand of silver in her hair with each exhale. If one were to knock on the medic’s window, she would not awaken, not even stir to greet them in a sleep-addled state of mind. No. For now she rests, safe in her guardian’s servos.

~~~

Beneath the overcast skies of New Jersey, Optimus Prime stands patiently in the well-kept graveyard, awaiting the arrival of his scout. Toby Hills, however, is less so. In her arms, Aquarius squirms in demand for play. But the sparkling is blissfully unaware of the somber atmosphere that hangs low upon the shoulders of the Autobots.

It was discovered, halfway into their flight, that the Diego Garcia base had been attacked by Decepticons. Over fifty personnel lay in wooden coffins with the flag of their country draped overtop due to leaked information provided by Director Galloway. Not only that, but the Shard disappeared from the vault, scattered evidence proving that the Decepticons had taken it.

The woman growls lowly to herself, bouncing her son on her knee as she thinks. She could have prevented this. Instead of standing by without a word, she could have interfered. Alas, she did not, the result leaving her to scold herself.

Another thought sticks close, however, one that feels much more warranted than the last. She had given Aquarius life, yet she does not possess the power to do so. How? That shard, or chip, whatever it was that she touched prior to the kitchen appliances coming alive, had sent out a sort of energy, and, for whatever reason, had transferred something to her. And she had transferred it into the coffee machine, ultimately giving her Aquarius Orion Hills. 

Her mind insists that it was a piece of the Allspark, but her soul and instincts request that she does not meddle with the placement of the item. Oh, how she wishes to tell her leader of her suspicions, and yet, she finds herself unable to do so.

Noting her souring mood, Optimus glances down at the woman, concerned by her furrowed brows. “Toby, is something wrong?”

Her head snaps up to meet his gaze, his voice startling her from her thoughts. In her eyes, the Prime can see an entire range of emotions and fleeting thoughts passing through her mind, several of which he cannot understand.

“Hmm? What? Oh, nothing,” she fumbles for words, clearing her head with a firm shake. “Nothing, Optimus, just thinking.”

“It takes more than a simple thought to occupy your mind, my friend,” he hums gently, mindful of her vulnerable position. 

The inventor sighs, eyes cast downwards as she regains herself. “Liam Howells, Alexander Sherman, Ross King, Albert Warren, Kate Walton, Taylor Bright, Travis Flynn, Susana Torres, Matt Coppers, Lillian Brown, Harley Smith, John Welk. I can name each soldier, I knew them too,” she states grimly, gaze distant. “We lost too many men last night for something I could’ve prevented. If I had just made Galloway shut his trap, they might still be alive.”

“You are not to blame for this incident, Toby,” he turns away from her, optics towards the skies in slim hope to see the faces of those lost in the clouds with guilt consuming his usually neutral voice. “If anyone is to be blamed, it should be me.”

Toby’s head snaps up to stare at him, not recognising his reasons for the redirection. Her knees slowly come to a standstill, no longer bouncing the excitable sparkling for his amusement. She sits him on her metal arm, securing his safety with her hand while she allows him to play with her long hair.

“I should have silenced him the moment that he began his accusatory words, but I feared what would happen if I tested his temper,” Optimus turns his helm back to the medic, offering his best comforts despite his own hurt. “And in turn, if I tested your government’s limits.”

The woman sighs again, settling more comfortably against the stone of a tall grave marker belonging to small family of immigrants. She twirls a tiny flower in between her digits, grabbing Aquarius’ attention from her now mangled mess of hair, motivating him to venture to the soft grass growing in the earth. 

He determinedly squirms out of his mother’s grasp, sliding off her stomach and landing chassis-first on the ground, causing her eyes to widen as she expects him to start whining in shock. Instead, he starts giggling, reaching out and tugging at the green sprouts with curiosity and contagious joy. 

His mother chuckles fondly at his behaviour, allowing him to continue his play as she returns her gaze to the Prime with a small smile on her lips. “Don’t be too sure about that, Optimus. Although we could have interrupted him, I doubt that Galloway, like the seagull he is, would’ve allowed himself to be silenced. He would’ve said it all anyways.”

All it takes for the grim atmosphere to disperse is the little light provided by the endless joy of a child, his innocent wonder cutting through the darkness like a spark igniting in the air. Both Autobots watch the youngster in his play, a soft and sweet air surrounding them while he pulls at miniscule flowers.

The rumble of a familiar engine disturbs the peace of the moment, though it brings a grin to Toby’s features before the reality of the situation presses back down on her shoulders, causing her to frown lightly at the approaching yellow and black Camaro. In the broken tranquility of the graveyard, the woman draws her son back into her arms in preparation for the inevitable argument, mentally taking note of the bundle of petaled plants in his fisted servo.

“You won’t give me a day, huh?” At the sight of the young college student, the woman pulls herself to her feet, a wary expression on display. “You won’t give me one day in college.”

“I am sorry, Sam,” Optimus apologises, making his medic scoff at the thought. “But the last fragment of the Allspark was stolen.”

Samuel looks shocked, adjusting his shirt in nervous habit. “Like, what? Like Decepticon stolen?”

A snort escapes the woman, bringing unnecessary attention to herself as she keeps her distance. Her boot scuffs the grass, her pede dragging slightly behind as she studies the boy in front of her, a stern glare set in her eyes. “Yes, Decepticon stolen. Who else?”

“We placed it under human protection at your government’s request,” the Prime’s optics darken as he recalls the names of those fallen. “But I am here for your help, Sam. Because your leaders believed we brought vengeance upon your planet. Perhaps, they are right. That is why they must be reminded by another human of the trust we share.”

“You already have Toby,” Sam glances nervously at her, only just about catching her hardened glare.

“No, I’m an Autobot. They automatically assume that my opinion is directly affected by Optimus. You don’t have that kind of association,” she corrects him, striding slowly towards Bumblebee.

“This isn’t my war.”

Toby freezes, turning on her heel to face the boy, a look of bewilderment and disbelief crossing her face. “Like pits it isn’t. This is your planet.”

“Not yet,” Optimus pauses, gaze upon the young human boy. “But I fear it soon will be. Your world must not share the same fate as Cybertron. Whole generations lost.”

The inventor gives her leader a saddened look filled with sympathy. During her time with the Autobots, she has come to learn that their fallen home is a sensitive topic, most of them refusing to speak of it due to the pain that flares in their sparks when remembering.

“I-I know, and I want to help you. I do,” she narrows her eyes at him, hearing how little hesitation is in his voice. “But I’m not some alien ambassador. You know, I’m a normal kid with normal problems.”

“You were never normal,” she spits, sheltering Aquarius from the harsh words that are soon to be said. “Ever since your great-grandfather fell into the ice, you weren’t destined for a normal life.”

“You’re Optimus Prime. You have the Autobots, you don’t need me.”

“Sam, fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing,” the Prime glances at Toby, knowing that fate certainly chose her on the worst days of her life.

“And yet, you still think you can control it,” she hisses at him as he walks past, avoiding her the best he can. 

“This is over,” he glares at her, tired and annoyed. 

‘Bee opens his door for the boy, quickly wishing he’d backed up instead upon seeing her fury. He whirs faintly, beeping in slight fear. He’d seen what her fury does, he doesn’t want to be involved in it.

“Over?” She chuckles darkly, pushing herself off ‘Bee’s hood to face the kid. “Two years ago, you got involved in the biggest war humanity has ever seen. You saved not only Mission City, but the rest of the world. I lost two limbs that day. You lost nothing but your chance of a normal life. Today, Decepticons are reappearing on every continent. We fight them, they fight back. Some day, this world is going to be very different, and humanity is going to have to accept that we live among them. So believe me when I say that this isn’t over.”

“Yeah, well, it is for me,” he growls lowly, eyeing her cautiously.

Fire flares in her eyes, contrasting powerfully with the ice blue residing there. “Don’t you listen?! This will _ never _ be over!” She roars ragefully. 

Sam ignores her words, climbing inside ‘Bee’s alt and closing the door behind him. The Camaro whines quietly in apology, his sound going unheard by the woman as blood thunders in her ears.

Toby watches almost numbly as the young scout reverses down the road, eyes dark and cold, oblivious to the shaking youngster in her arms. A small whimper brings her attention to the little sparkling, eyes widening in the realisation that she frightened him with her sudden change.

“Oh, no, no. Shh. I’m sorry, Akk. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she nuzzles him softly, kissing his cheek plates. “I’ll try not to do that again, alright?”

He nods, big optics brimmed with coolant and derma quivering but he doesn’t shed the tears, instead whining softly, wrapping his arms around his mother’s neck. Aquarius finds himself hoisted higher up so his mom can hold him more comfortably, the new position allowing him to curl into her warmth.

“We should head back to base,” the little one doesn’t understand what she means, but chirps quietly in agreement.

The bigger mech, the admirable and impressive one, hums in acknowledgement, and though Aquarius can’t see him, he knows that he’s knelt down towards the pair. “I will notify the others of this change.”

His mother nods before turning back to the stone memorial, making him poke his helm out from hiding. The red and blue mech smiles at the sight of his large optics, causing the youngster to squeak in joy.

“Before we go, there’s one thing we must do first,” he finds himself being pulled away from her body to face the carved stone. He watches in fascination as she places the small flower from earlier at the base of the structure. Mimicking her action, Aquarius places down his fistful of flowers and chirps in satisfaction. She smiles at him, standing once again and placing her hand upon the stone. “May this family have peace in death, and their descendants happiness in life. I thank you for your allowance of my resting here. You and the soldiers who joined you last night will not be forgotten.”

Tranquility blows lightly through the graveyard in a small breeze, swirling around the woman and her son in gratitude. She smiles slightly at the change in mood, accepting the act as one performed by the peaceful dead.

“Let’s go home.”


End file.
